


the only thing that works for me

by Vicepresidents



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicepresidents/pseuds/Vicepresidents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something that never happened in a storage closet that probably doesn't exist minutes before their GQ shoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only thing that works for me

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta-ed shameless filth written in fifteen, twenty minutes right after Tumblr unleashed a barrage of magazine covers that prompted me to to yell about suit porn and the possibility of Zayn Malik in Zegna. title from Closer by Nine Inch Nails because why the hell not.

"Fuck."

"That’s the point, isn’t it?"

Whatever retort Harry had in mind dies in his throat and escapes as mewl and Zayn loves it, loves that he could literally fuck the English out of Harry Styles. He’s scrabbling at the floor now, fingers catching on nothing as he tries to anchor himself, nails scratching on the tacky linoleum floor as Zayn drives in, in, in, and he doesn’t even try to kid himself and feel remorseful when the top of Harry’s bowed head thumps against the closed closet door.

"Zayn," Harry draws his name out, manages to say it like a plea and a warning all rolled up into one.

"I’m close too, shit," Zayn’s not going to last, not with Harry reduced to one-syllable words, knees skidding on the floor, the pants of his _Calvin Klein_ suit pooled by his ankles, back arched under the charcoal gray jacket. They barely managed to find a closet that had enough room and it’s a miracle they were able to pry their mouths off each other and drop trou. 

"I don’t even have to touch you, don’t I," Zayn pants, bites the collar of Harry’s shirt and nips closer to his ear.

"Shit," Harry stuffs his fist in his mouth and Zayn’s seen this countless of times to know he’s on the edge, knows Harry does that when he can’t help it, when it isn’t enough to bite his cheek and swallow the sounds Zayn forces out of him.

 "You could come like this," Zayn whispers into Harry’s damp neck and Harry isn’t even making any sounds anymore. All Zayn hears is the heavy shallow breaths Zayn punches out of Harry each time his cock is sheathed all the way in.

"Just. Like. This," he punctuates each word with a deep thrust that jostles the curls on Harry’s head, and he’s barely pushed back in a third time before Harry lets out a deep groan muffled by his fingers and Zayn follows not soon after, filling Harry, pumping into him like he’s starved for it, like they’re both starved for it. 

"Shit," Harry’s voice sounds like what Zayn feels right now, wrung out and spent utterly wrecked.

Zayn gingerly gets to his feet, has to palm the wall to get his footing back and lifts a hand for Harry to take.

"Shit," Harry twines their hands and lifts himself off the floor. “Shit,” he repeats like he’s on auto-pilot, like it’s the only word he knows.

"Alright?" Zayn frowns and trails his hands down Harry’s clothed back, down to the warm pink swell of Harry’s ass, fingers dipping into the crease, checking like he always does when they end up doing it like this.

“No. I mean. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m brilliant. You’re brilliant,” Harry smiles that smile that makes him look carelessly younger, that smile Harry gives him when Zayn’s just given him his last piece of chicken because Harry polished off his plate too fast. Zayn tries not to think about how it makes his dick stir, however impossibly, that the boy with the soft dimpled smile is also the boy with his come currently leaking out his ass.

“I’ll feel you still in me during the shoot,” Harry teases like he’s just read Zayn’s mind, “That’s sick,” he grins.

And this is why he puts up with Harry. Furiously insatiable Harry who threw him a look under his lashes while he was buttoning on his cufflinks at the powder room. Like he knew what he was doing to Zayn, dressing himself layer by layer like he was a Christmas present meant for Zayn to tear into later, like he knew they’d end up standing toe-to-toe in creased suits in a cramped storage closet, and all Zayn can do is press a smile against Harry’s mouth like a wordless, sincere  _thank-you_.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: [this](http://zaynsharold.tumblr.com/post/56813783999/what-are-you-looking-for) was the first thing I saw the morning after I posted this on my blog and I wanted to bathe in holy water because of all the things I may or may not have been thinking of.
> 
> also, none of this would be possible if not for Ivy's inability to control me from myself. cheers, poohead.


End file.
